Vow Unbroken

by Caryl McAdoo

  They always took her back to the first night she and Andy had slept out under the stars as man and wife, made her feel close to him. More love than sense had driven them into the adventure of starting their life together in the new territory.

  If only her father had given his blessing when Andrew asked and not made her choose between them. Why couldn’t he understand she didn’t have time to wait? Maybe then her husband would still be alive, and Becky would have known what it was like to have a daddy. Sue deserved whatever God meted out for her rebellion, even losing her husband after only a year. But her innocent little girl had done nothing to warrant her loss. Sue regretted most that, because of her own poor choices, her daughter had suffered.

  Sue missed her daddy. She often wondered what he was doing and whether or not she’d ever see him again. It was a desire of her heart, and the Good Book said God would give you the desires of your heart, so she hoped she would. First thing, she’d ask her father’s forgiveness. Had he ever gotten her letters? She hoped no response didn’t mean that he hated her or that he had died.

  Sue sighed at the high price she’d paid for disobeying and not honoring her father. A long time ago, she’d promised God that, if He would forgive her, she’d never marry again without her daddy’s blessing. In the nearly ten years since Andy’s death, plenty of suitors had called, but when they talked marriage, her vow always dampened their affections.

  Over and over, men tried to convince her that it was not so much the asking but the traveling all the way to Tennessee. Oh well, her vow had proved to be a right good measure of their true intentions and how deep their love ran. She might never be blessed with another love, but if it happened, the man’s commitment would certainly be tested.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  She scooted around and sat up, then smiled at Henry. “Oh, just reminiscing a little, I guess. The stars do that to me.”

  “Mind some company?”

  “Not at all. Levi bedded down?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. I think that ax wore him plum out.” Henry had a nice laugh. The first time, she’d heard it on the heels of her honest-day’s-work insult. He’d taken it with such grace even if it had embarrassed her at the time.

  She tried to think but couldn’t remember another time since that he had laughed. “Yes, he looked pretty tuckered.”

  Wait. At the Aikins’ place with William and again with that Lizbeth.

  Henry took a seat against the wagon wheel a respectable space away, but not so far that she couldn’t make out his features in the pale moonlight. “Bad break, that water moccasin.”

  She nodded. “Indeed. We would have been halfway to Pleasant Mound instead of stuck here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And it sure looked to me like you were right on track to cross with no problems.”

  “Well, if we can get out pretty quick in the morning, won’t be too much time lost.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked up and pointed. “A shooting star.”

  She followed his finger in time to catch the star’s dying trail. “Wow. I haven’t seen a shooting star since we came west.” She studied the heavens and looked back ten years. “Me and Andy were so young and so in love and on such a grand adventure. Slept out under the stars all the way.”

  * * *

  HENRY STUDIED THE WIDOW; maybe now was a good time. “I never had the pleasure to meet your husband or his brother, but I’ve heard tell . . .” He let his words drift off; maybe she’d take the bait and talk about her lost love.

  She closed her eyes. He hoped he hadn’t lost his chance to hear about Andy. “We had such plans for our future, and the Baylor brothers were two of the hardest working men I’d ever known.”

  “That’s what everyone said.”

  “They should have quit that day when it started to rain, but they had promised to deliver the load the next afternoon . . .” She shivered and hugged herself, like instead of just remembering, she had traveled back in time. She fell silent.

  Could he keep her talking without being blatant? “Ma’am?”

  “It was the most horrible day of my life; still haunts my dreams. I was expecting, of course, though I didn’t know it at the time.” She took in a deep breath. “We had to cross Langford’s Creek. Levi and I made it no problem in that very wagon over there, but we had all four mules. You knew his mother died from complications shortly after his birth, didn’t you?”

  Henry nodded. “I’d heard that.”

  “Anyway, the drizzle was heavy, and it was getting dark fast. Andy walked by the yoke, urging the oxen to the top of the hill. Jacob brought up the rear, pushing. A bolt of lightning struck too close, blinded me a heartbeat, but in its afterglow, I saw their team rear. The oxen bellowed something awful.”

  She shuddered. “The off ox started slipping and fell. His struggling pulled him down the bank. The wagon teetered on two wheels a second, but the back axle broke under the timber’s weight. Tie ropes snapped, and the logs rolled off. First ones knocked Jacob down. The rest kept hitting him and rolling over and over where he’d landed.”

  Henry started to stop her, but then figured it best to let her get the telling out.

  “The wagon tumbled down the bank side over side until it finally settled at the bottom. One wheel was spinning in the air. Funny what stands out, the details you remember.” She looked up at the stars again. “Andy disappeared in the melee. Logs lay strewn all over the place; horizontal, vertical, sticking into the air like ghoulish omens. I ran from log to log across the side of the incline. Then I spotted Jacob covered in mud head to boot, as lifeless as the logs.”

  Her pain cut his heart. He wanted to see to it that nothing so horrible ever happened to her again.

  “I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to see his face, but when I made myself, his open eyes stared into the rain. I knew he was gone. I screamed for Andy but couldn’t find him. Then at last I heard him calling my name. I was so relieved. His voice was faint, but I heard it and found him. That black mud caked my shoes so heavy I could hardly walk, but I found him. He was trapped under the wagon, its sideboard across on his belly. He was so covered in blood, I thought he’d lost his eye.

  “One of the oxen kept screaming—the most horrible sound I’ve ever heard to this day. Andrew wanted me to see to Jacob.” She shook her head. “I told him he was gone. Then he sent me to get the gun and put the ox out of its misery. He had me reload quick as I could and shoot into the air, hoping someone might be close enough to hear and come help.”

  Henry wanted to hug her, make all her pain and bad memories go away, but that would be the wrong thing to do.

  “I’d never killed anything. Never saw a dead man either. Mr. Foglesong heard the shots and came. Took us most the night to get Andy out and home. He passed three days later. He never even knew I was pregnant.”

  She looked skyward. Henry watched with her for a bit, then turned his attention to the widow. She was about the most handsome lady he’d ever laid eyes on; no wonder nearly every eligible bachelor or widower in the Red River Valley had come calling. “Most women would have given up, Sue.”

  “Maybe, but I just couldn’t quit, though there were plenty of times I thought about going home to Daddy. Andy and Jacob had tied up everything they owned in the land and their steam-powered sawmill. They were so proud of that. I couldn’t simply walk away and give it all up. I’d be robbing the children of their inheritance. Besides, the hardships drove me closer to the Lord. I prayed a lot. He got me through.”

  Henry laughed. Why did women always want to give a heavenly father credit for what they had done? “My mother always said the Lord did this or God did that when it was her all along. She did it. She was alone, and she did it by herself—just like you, Sue—by her own strength of character and will.”

  “So.” She paused as though choosing her words carefully. “You aren’t a believer.”

  “Well, yes and no. I do believe there’s a God up there somewhere, but n
o, I don’t have much use for organized religion with all its thou-shalt-nots. I’ve never been one to turn the other cheek.”

  “Just believing there is a God isn’t enough. The devil believes that, too. I know all the rules do make it seem hard sometimes, but thing is, no one keeps ’em all. No one can.”

  * * *

  SHE LOVED IT THAT HENRY called her by her nickname all the time now; he must consider himself a friend. Had the Lord opened his heart? At least the man wasn’t cutting her off or being rude. “The fourth commandment says to obey your parents, and I didn’t. Still, He forgave me. That’s one reason why I promised Him that I’d never marry again without my father’s blessing.”

  Henry’s eyebrows lifted a bit, and he smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Heard about that. Never knew the whys of the promise though. So Andy asked, your father said no, and you did anyway?”

  “Yes, he did ask for Daddy’s blessing, but my father the judge thought we were too young to know what love was. He said no, that we should give it a couple of years, but there wasn’t time to wait. Andrew was leaving to go in partners with his brother.” She didn’t want to mention Andrew’s poor financial position or that her daddy held it against him that he had no trade. The scenario fit Henry too well. “So, I just ran away, left home, and married in rebellion. Haven’t seen or spoken with Daddy since. I’m not even sure if he knows he has a granddaughter.”

  “You never sent word?”

  “I posted three letters with folks going east, but never got a response. Daddy may not have got them, but even if he did, he didn’t write back; probably hates me and decided long ago I was dead to him whether I breathed or not. I always figured if he received them, he’d insist that I come straight back to Memphis. I never wanted to leave Texas.”

  Henry laughed. “So you’re an independent, are you?”

  She loved it that he laughed all the time now. Had she had a part in that? She hoped so. “Aren’t you? Don’t you want to see Texas a republic? Free of Mexican rule?”

  For the next few minutes the man expounded on how the territory was part of Mexico and should stay that way. He finally stopped talking. Though she didn’t care much for what he was saying, she could have listened to his voice all night.

  He stood. “We best get some shut-eye. Tomorrow promises to be a tough one.”

  With her pallet back under the wagon, she considered how the question of the territory’s future had turned the conversation from religion to politics, and his views were as opposite in one area as in the other. Disappointed that she’d let the opportunity to witness to him slip away so easily, she promised herself she’d bring the topic up again before the journey was over, maybe on the way home.

  But one way or another, she fully intended to be God’s vessel to bring this man—although clearly a morally good man—to salvation. If she knew anything, she knew that being good wouldn’t get anyone to Heaven. And without a doubt, his mother wanted to see him again on those golden streets someday. Sue would gladly be the teapot the Lord used to pour out some truth on the man.

  She smiled at herself and at the Lord. He had always amused her with His awesome sense of humor. She remembered laughing aloud at more than one inappropriate time because He’d gotten her tickled.

  A cool breeze stirred the leaves and a nightingale sang its praise.

  Pondering what she’d come to know about Patrick Henry Buckmeyer on the trace—had it only been three days?—she recalled how weary he looked after the day of chopping down the bois d’arc and the oak. And that following the extra work to hitch the four mules to the wagon she’d got stuck. Yet he hadn’t complained once, or said I told you so either.

  Her precious little girl was smitten with him, but probably only because she’d never had a father. Sue patted herself on the back for swallowing her pride and not insisting that he keep working when he’d called it an early day with so much daylight left. She’d let him burn it without saying a thing. And she didn’t even get angry!

  What a day it had been.

  Conflicted at every turn, she teetered between laughing and crying. Even though she didn’t understand why she’d had to get the wagon stuck, she had faith that everything would be all right. No doubt about that. God had proved Himself trustworthy to her time and again since she’d been living alone on the Sulphur Fork Prairie with two children.

  Mama—God rest her soul—had taught her never to give up. She’d be proud. Her sweet prayers for others—even on her deathbed—had always awed Sue. How could she not love God after living with a mother like Patricia Abbott for twelve years? Sue still missed her.

  “Father, You have blessed me so,” Sue whispered toward the sky. “Your faithfulness, Your mercy, Your everlasting, never-ending, loving-kindness. They are all so amazing.”

  Even if she’d made a bad choice, she had repented.

  Still, what if God had intended all along that she miss the Jefferson buyers? What would she do then? And she’d blown her chance to get Henry saved. She missed Andy and she missed her daddy and her wagon was stuck in the creek. A tear rolled down Sue’s cheek as a mountain of self-pity smothered her.

  How could she be so happy and full of faith and so overwhelmed and sad at the same time? Thinking back to the last time Eve’s curse had visited, she chalked up the mood swings to it coming again soon. Great. That was all she needed out here on the trace. She gave in to the depression and cried softly.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  HENRY HEARD THE LADY CRYING in the night but decided not to go to her. He had no idea why she would be sad but figured she might be praying. Some women seemed to cry every time they prayed; his mother often had. He didn’t understand that at all. How would their earthly fathers feel if they cried every time they talked to them?

  Too soon the next morning, he woke. Every muscle ached and begged to stay horizontal longer, but a hard day lay ahead and wouldn’t wait. He eased up, stretched a bit, and then silently went to work on a fire and getting the coffee on. With those chores seen to, he decided to handle the necessaries.

  On his return, he carried a clutch of duck eggs he’d spotted in the pale moonlight right as he finished his business. He hoped Sue would be pleasantly surprised. More and more, it seemed about all he could think of was pleasing her. He wanted to see more of that smile of hers, a lot more.

  “Good morning.”

  He turned his head, and there it was. He didn’t know what had made her so happy so early, but he was thankful. “Morning to you. Ready for some coffee? It’s almost done.”

  “Yes, sir.” She stood and stretched.

  He should look away but couldn’t help enjoying her fine figure in the flickering firelight. He cleared his throat. “Got a surprise for you.”

  She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, hugged herself against the cool morning, and came toward him smiling. “Oh, you do?” Amusement filled her voice. “I can’t imagine what that might be out here in this swamp.”

  “Found a clutch of duck eggs.” He pointed to his hat. “Levi and the little miss like eggs?”

  She smiled again.

  How could he live without seeing that every day?

  “Yes, they sure do; we all do! What a wonderful gift from the Lord.” She went over and peered into the hat. “How many is in there?”

  “Nine. Want to splurge or save some?”

  “Depends. How much do you like cake?”

  “Ummm. I love cake.” He grinned. “You got everything you need?”

  “Well, now, there is one contingency.”

  He loved that she had a good vocabulary. Having grown up with a lady of letters, he’d been put off over the years by pretty girls with a limited selection of words. “And that would be?”

  “How much honey you’re willing to part with. I have everything else.”

  He laughed. If only she knew the real reason he’d brought the honey jars. “I’m willing to provide a healthy sopping’s worth if the cake’s a good one.”


  Her lips spread a bit, but she made them straighten. She did a thing with her eyes that he liked, moved them up and down quickly. He got the impression she flirted a bit. “Don’t cotton to braggin’ on myself, but I guarantee you that you haven’t eaten cake, Mister Buckmeyer, until you’ve tasted mine.”

  He nodded. What he wanted to do was scoop her up and hug her until the sunrise came together with the sunset and all the time in between, but that wouldn’t do. He had to play the game according to the rules, be polite and a gentleman at all times. “Want me to fix the biscuits?”

  “No, sir, I’ll make ’em. I like mine better than yours, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Why would I? I like yours better than mine, too. So, won’t bother me a bit. As a matter of fact, if I never had to fix another meal for the rest of my life, that’d be fine with me.”

  “Truly? I would have guessed otherwise.”

  “No. Between Mother and the army, I got real spoiled to having my meals prepared.”

  “I see.” She studied the fire’s embers. “So were you really with Jackson at New Orleans? I’ve heard stories—”

  “Yes, ma’am, sure was.”

  She went to the wagon and retrieved the Dutch oven, frying pan, mixing bowl, and her fixings, talking as she went. “But I never believed them totally. How could it be true? Battle of New Orleans was in 1814, right? So, that’s what? Eighteen years ago? You’re not that old.”

  He squatted next to the fire, enjoying its warmth. “I was always big for my age, and lying came real easy back then. By the time the Colonel found out I was only sixteen, I’d proved my worth. We were always outnumbered, and since there really wasn’t anywhere to send me, he made me his personal orderly. But I saw about as much action as anyone else.”

  She looked up. “So you’re . . . thirty-four?”